As Dead as it Gets
by fri13girl
Summary: "I could finally feel pain. I could feel again and I loved the pain. It proved to me that I was still alive. It proved to me that what I was going through wasn't a dream. It was reality. I grew addicted to the pain. Eventually, I needed relief from the pain. I needed a mental escape. Eventually, I needed something stronger." WARNING: Contains suicide, cutting, and substance abuse.


**A/N: So this is yet another Bella-commits-suicide-during-New-Moon one-shot. But unlike the others, I have the California Youth Crisis Hotline number and website. The website is and the number (this may only be for California) is 1-800-843-5200. Please call or go online if you are having suicidal thoughts. BTW, Bella doesn't know Jacob's secret.**

_To anybody who still cares about me:_

_ The first time I cut, I just wanted to know what it was like. I had read about it in newspapers announcing that someone had committed suicide. I was curious about what it was, so I looked it up online. _

_ My boyfriend Edward dumped me. I sought comfort from my best friend Jacob. I became an adrenaline junkie. I tried motorcycling because I could almost hear Edward's voice, telling me not to do it. I craved his voice. He had completely cut me off. I needed comfort._

_ Then Jacob shut me out. He joined the La Push gang. I was once again devastated. I finally gave up. The first time, I accidentally cut myself making dinner. I couldn't feel any pain. _

_ The next day after school, I took one of my dad's razors, sat down in my room and rolled up my pant leg. I cut my skin, but couldn't feel any pain. I kept searching for the pain. Finally, I gave up and took a scorching hot shower. I disinfected the cuts after my shower. I finally felt the pain. I could feel again. I kept cleaning my cuts because I loved the pain. It proved to me that I was still alive. It proved to me that what I was going through wasn't a dream. It was reality. _

_ I began to cut every day. At first it was only my legs. Nobody talked to me in PE so they didn't notice. Finally, the teacher took notice. I told her that I had been walking in the woods and into a thorny bush. After that, I was careful to not cut where anybody could see, again._

_ The cuts were on my upper arm, torso, stomach, and ribs. Nobody cared or noticed that I was acting different. _

_ Soon I became addicted to cutting. When the pain came back and existed while I cut, I needed relief from the pain. I know you might think that I should have just quit cutting, but I was addicted to seeing my blood and the pain. At first, it was just ibprophen. But I needed a mental escape. I began to drink beer. My dad never noticed. Eventually, I needed something more. I soon made it an everyday thing; to drink two beers, take a morphine tablet or five, and cut. The cuts were never deep. _

_ I went on like that for a month. Nobody noticed. Soon, my afterschool ritual wasn't enough. I moved to deeper cuts on my breasts, armpits, ass, back, and upper thighs. I lived for the pain. I went on like that for a week. The other cuts began to heal. I let them. Even THAT son to not be enough. I have taken to wearing my St. Jude protection bracelet because I started to cut my wrists. I had settled on that. _

_I have decided that I need the relief and not the pain. I realized that there is pain enough in my heart. I began drinking alcohol and taking pain killers, cold and cough medicine. It's time for me to have my final relief. I'm not sorry. I want this. I'll be happy doing this, I promise._

_Goodbye forever, _

_Bella_

Bella looked over the note she wrote. She was satisfied. She had bought more painkillers. She was sitting in her room, wearing a white blouse, a white and pair of white ballet flats, courtesy of Alice.

Bella adjusted the white headband in her hair. She began taking the morphine pills, a small handful at a time, along with beer. Bella kept taking more pills. She had convinced everybody that she was on her period and had bad pains by buying ladies' sanitary products along with a few other items to erase suspicion of what she was doing. When Bella found that she was getting high enough on the morphine, she opened the medicine cabinet and took a small handful of ibprophen. She took Aspirin, Tylenol, cough medicine, more beer. She took everything in the medicine cabinet along with the rest of the morphine. She lay on my bed, feeling weak. Her death wasn't coming soon enough. Bella's eyes landed on a knife she had forgotten about. Bella cut her wrists deeply. She cut more and more, trying to get her death to come sooner. She finally opened the window in her room and jumped. She died ten minutes later.

Alice sped along the road and began dry-sobbing when she saw Bella's broken, bloody body on the front lawn. She was too late.


End file.
